


The Team Advantage

by halocentury



Series: kyluxxoxo 19 [8]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baseball, M/M, Name Changes, Nicknames, No Teams Named, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-26 08:36:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20739344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halocentury/pseuds/halocentury
Summary: Armitage Hux never watched a professional baseball game, on television or in a stadium. He watched games at the local park, the dusty afternoon games and the warm evening games.At ten-years old he met Ben Organa Solo. When he heard the other boy call out his position, "Pitcher!" - Hux knew.For seven years they were a formidable duo, pitcher and catcher. They were untouchable.Yet baseball was his summer past-time. Nothing was meant to interfere with academia. He went to school to study pursue a career in sports medicine. Ben was the local star, getting scholarships to several schools to play baseball.Until their paths crossed again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pushing the summer theme for the last weekend of summer. Belated submission for Week 8 of kyluxxoxo. The theme is End of Summer. The tags filled out for this week's prompts are tag / mate / star.

Late summer sun hovered over the distant treeline, a glow that had him squinting to the pitcher. He remembered what the player standing to his right had swung at through out the game, remembered the near hit that could’ve easily been a double had it not been for their second baseman. 

Keeping all this in mind, pressing suction against his mouthguard, he flashed a familiar signal to the pitcher. 

The dark haired boy barely grinned, he only saw it in the flash of his eyes below his brim. He squared back his shoulders before delivering a fast pitch that had no chance of being hit.

A massive cheer came from the bench and the bleachers. All the boys on the field raced to the pitchers’ mound, jostling and hugging and jumping, the state championship theirs, all thanks to their final game, a no-hitter no less.

The bench emptied just as fast, the rest of the team having joined around the pitcher, eventually hoisting the teenage boy onto the coaches’ shoulders. The other team were eying them, dismay heavy in their hearts and gaze, but clapping for the win. 

He was peeling off his mask and shin guards, carefully setting them on top of the home plate, coming slowly up to the rest of the team. He had barely rubbed shoulders with one of his teammates when he heard his name being shouted above the cheers and congratulations. 

“Hux! Get over here, I couldn’t have done it without you! If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t be throwing all the right pitches!” 

He didn’t have the time to protest, by voice or shake of head, before everyone was squeezing his shoulders; only two teammates went to grab him by the legs, hoisting him up to their shoulders.

Once they were standing, Hux held aloft, he blushed under the dim sky, glad that the sun had since disappeared under the tree tops. A glance over to the pitcher, grinning hard enough for the two of them, had him smiling back too. 

*

Sports had never really been Hux’s thing. He was a good runner, much to everyone’s surprise. He preferred long-distance but could sprint the bases with a speed that no one expected for a kid his height. 

Stumbling into baseball as he did, he still couldn’t explain it. He had watched other kids on his street play catch, hit the ball as far down the road they could, but it didn’t interest him until he saw a proper game at the local park, seated behind the diamond on the bleachers, an unknown amongst players’ friends and family. 

More convenient than all the other sports he saw boys and girls playing, this was one of the few sports that took place during the summer, not causing any conflict with school. Perhaps that was the only reason Brendol let him pick it up. He wasn’t the strongest hitter, but six-year-olds were not renowned for their strength. They did need skill and luck, and hope that the other team wouldn’t out-luck them. 

Fortune meant that he usually outraced all the throws to tag him out. 

Skill landed him quickly behind home-plate, noticing not only was he a good catch but quick reflexes and bendy legs could keep the baseball from going too far astray when a wild pitch could’ve resulted in the ball hitting the backstop. 

He had to slather sunscreen on his face and arms to keep from burning during games but it was worth it. His first friends he made during that first year. They played together for several years until they dropped out. One moved out of state and the other had to give up baseball in order to focus more on soccer, his first true love.

He was ten years old when he first met Ben Organa-Solo. New league, new teams, mostly new team mates. Hux noticed him right away, both of them at least a head taller than the rest of the boys. It wasn’t until the coaches were calling them out by name to find out which positions everyone played that it wasn’t by chance.

Ben was a pitcher. 

Hux had been off to the side near the one boy he did know but drifted over to Ben as casually as he could.

He extended his hand to Ben, who side-eyed him at first.

“I’m going to be your catcher,” Hux announced. 

Ben almost laughed, managed a small smile before shaking his hand. “You sound awfully confident about that.”

Seven years later, that confidence was well-founded. 

*

Off-season, or, as Hux called it, the school year, involved him and Ben meeting up whenever they could. Living in different neighbourhoods, resulting in attending different schools, meant that they would sometimes meet up in the evenings but mostly on the weekends. As long as the weather was still decent they went to the nearest baseball diamond, switching between Hux’s or Ben’s house depending on how much of a mood Brendol was in. Most of it was spent keeping their pitching and catching on point. Though Ben did help him in improving his batting skills. He would never be hitting any out of the park home runs but between his running and vastly improved hits it was common for him to make it to second base on his own efforts. 

Hux watched Ben switch from left to right in the batting cages. Sighing wistfully, he repositioned his arms on the wire fence that was meant to protect him from stray balls, if Ben ever missed. “How many baseball scholarships are you up to now?”

“How many have I received?” Ben asked after another successful swing. “Five. I would’ve chosen already if my mom wasn’t reading through the packages with me. She’s right though, I should be going to a good school for sports and academics. Need a back up plan in case anything happens to me.”

The last ball shot, Ben hitting it back nearly to the machine. 

Hux grabbed his bat before stepping into the batting section. “I’ve narrowed my choices down to two. They’re both great schools. It’s hard to decide.” 

Ben shook his head, faintly bemused. “I don’t know how you didn’t get any scholarships.”

He shrugged, not wanting to state facts, that Ben was born of pedigree. Even if he wasn’t their coaches were always lauding his skills, he was an all-around strong player. The few local sports reporters that came out to local sports games only had eyes for Ben as far as baseball stars were concerned. 

It was only on Ben’s insistence that he was included in the famous no-hitter state championship game winning photo. The photo landed in the local paper on the third page, a smaller version posted in amongst sports stats in the newspaper that was circulated out from the nearest big city. 

Hux remembered that photo. He had to remind himself to look at the camera and not Ben. 

He would never forget his strong arm around his shoulders, pulling him snug against his side. Warm big hand against his arm, caught mid-rub by the flash of the camera.

“You know me. Baseball in the summer, academics the rest of the time,” Hux insisted, then smiled. “Besides, you need me around to cheer you on.”

“I need you around to tell me what to throw. I wouldn’t be nearly as good if it weren’t for you.”

“You’ve got _it_. I’m the one lucky to be around you,” Hux assured him. “We are a good team and we’ll make this summer one to remember. You are going to enter school with a bang to tell them you are going into the big leagues.”

Ben laughed, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “First we get through this damn winter. We haven’t even made it through February. If this place wasn’t heated we’d both be freezing our asses off.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t.” 

Oh damn. He didn’t mean to let that one slip.

Ben laughed louder, dropping the hand that had rested on his shoulder to smack him on his ass. “Hey, don’t mock it, flat stuff.”

Suddenly the hitting cage was a lot hotter than it was previously.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the Big Leagues. National League.

He didn’t miss the wooden benches. Some days he missed the dirt and dust scuffing up with every ground ball, every step taken at a run for the next base. Each day that passed, from April through to September, and God willing into October, maybe November, he thrived on the cheers that met him for each strike out and each hit.

It was three up, three down he denied to make it to base. 

Last year he played for the city’s minor league team, got called up a few times. 

Now he was playing for the team for the full season, barring any unexpected injuries.

Three weeks into the season and he was comfortable with the home team advantage. Garnered wins each time he pitched. Got to base more than half the times he batted. He had reason to be confident when he walked up to the plate for the first time in today’s game.

The first two innings went fast, thanks to himself and the infield players. The other team was equally as efficient when they played defense. 

He sidled up to bat left-handed, amused by the vaguely disgruntled look the pitcher gave him. 

He swung for the first pitch, not expecting the ball to sink, leading to a strike.

He connected with the second pitch, hitting it deep into right field. Making it safely to second base he waited, grimacing when the second and third batters each struck out.

He waited with bated breath when the next batter came up to the plate. He didn’t want to be stranded out here, he had to make a run for home. He needed to.

It was another deep hit, into centre field, and he bolted as soon as the ball cleared the heads of the shortstop and second baseman. He didn’t look back to see which base his teammate stopped on, being waved on by the third base coach.

He was barreling towards home when the crowd seemed to grow louder. He didn’t know what they were yelling, though he reasoned they were cheering for the first run of the game. 

What he didn’t expect was the catcher to dart away from the plate, not to avoid him but to intercept him. 

Taking out the catcher, not realising he was as close as he was, they both landed hard on the ground. He heard the grunt underneath him but didn’t register it, his eyes wide on the catcher’s glove, hoisted above his head. 

He opened the glove wide enough, showing the baseball in his grasp. The umpire called the out, the end of the inning. The home team stadium was half cheering the ballsy play, the other half no doubt lamenting the missed score. 

Closing his eyes and groaning, dropping his head forward until his helmet was nudged back an inch upon catching the catcher’s helmet, he realised that the man underneath him wasn’t moving.

He started to push himself onto his hands and knees when he realised the catcher still wasn’t moving. He was looking up to him with a surprisingly kind gaze, not looking at all put out for spending half a minute on his back. 

His blue eyes looked familiar but it was the freckles under the wirtes that had his breath catching. 

His own team was taking the field but he didn’t care. He carefully hooked his fingers around to ease the other player’s helmet off, helped by the man lifting his head slightly. 

Sweaty red hair stayed flipped back even after the cap was removed. 

“What the fuck – Hux?”

He should’ve been on the mound but instead he hauled his old friend to his feet, dragging him in and up for a hug that should’ve hurt after their running collision but Hux didn’t complain. 

No one knew why Solo was hugging Sloane but the questions would be answered after the game.

*

It took twelve innings to break the tie score, the visiting team getting the winning run. The sportscasters applauded the well played game, both teams challenging the other with spectacular hits and impressive saves. 

Yet it was the tagged out at home plate in the third inning that was getting all the attention, second only to the hug that had to be separated by a cheeky catcher, first finger-tracing a heart around their heads before jostling Solo by the shoulder, shoving his mitt into his hand when they were finally separated. 

“Sloane?”

“Well, my… the man who is my father is not someone who’s name I wish to use any more. I legally changed my name – last name, to a very close family friend. Not all of us have two last names to choose from.”

“So how do you two know each other?”

“I’ve known Ben Solo since we were ten-years old, we played on the same team until we both went away for school.”

“Last I heard you were studying sports medicine. Unless you decided to specialise in baseball? How did you pull that off Hux?”

“It’s Armitage now. Well, Mitts, if you want to make a pun out of it, like the rest of the team does.”

“Considering you mitted me out at home, I’m letting it stick.”

“Great. Never should’ve said anything.”

“Did you do a scholarship for baseball alongside your sports medicine program?”

“I didn’t. I completed a Bachelor’s in biology but my school also had a strong baseball team. I knew it would be competitive to get in as a third year student as opposed to starting in my first year but I got in. I finished my first year of my MD program when I started getting offers from the minors.”

“I knew you would miss playing baseball! We were the best, we won the state championships for our hometown team. No hitter, final game. Me and Hu – Mitts, it’s like we could read each other’s mind. He could read the batters cues, maybe… nine times out of ten. If I didn’t know what to do he would tell me what to throw.”

“Not so good for you now when you’re the one hitting.”

“I’ll let you enjoy it this time. I’m not going to make it so easy for you next time.”

“What makes you think I’ll make it easy for you next time either?”

“Someone take a photo of this! This is the last time we’ll be hugging like this on a field. This is exactly what we looked like in our newspaper photo! Ben and Armitage, reunited!”

When the cameras were turned off, the reporters reporting back to their stations or preparing to interview other members of the team, Ben turned back to Mitts (it wasn’t the worst nickname, all things considered), still not letting go of his shoulders. His arm still comfortably reached around his shoulders although there was now more muscle tone to it. 

“Can a friend ask his friend for his phone number?”

Mitts nudged his elbow lightly into his side. “I think that’s allowable.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year of being reunited.

Games were the least consistent means of seeing each other, and even with the schedules through out the year the chances of Ben or Mitt being in each other’s city was still on the low side. When their teams were to play the other there were still commitments, not just the baseball game: pre-game warm-up and practise, fielding interviews with reporters or charity duties in the city. Occasionally they grabbed a post-game meal if they weren’t immediately travelling to the next city they’d be playing. 

It was the phone-calls that allowed them the most time to catch up. The occasional text of congratulations after a well-played game. Sometimes a video-call if they could guarantee privacy.

Six years and new hairstyles later, neither had changed that much. Jokes were shared, old and new. Mitt asked Ben about his family and what his personal life was like outside the MLB. Ben got a few answers about Mitt’s dad when the conversations were had in hotel rooms, knowing that Mitt wouldn’t want his teammates to find out. 

They made plans to get together for the all-star week but that had to be cancelled when Ben was voted into the game. 

“Well, I think I could come to spend time with you when you’re not busy? With the team or playing or competing,” Mitt commented, taking a few steps away from some of his teammates, walking from the bus toward the hotel they were staying at. “Do you have any idea of how busy you will be during the break? We could pretend to be tourists in your off-hours.”

“I haven’t heard anything about scheduling yet, but I’ll let you know when I do.”

“Alright, phone or text me when you’ve got more information.” Assent given, and a cheery ‘Later!’, Mitt turned off the call, hurrying to catch the hotel door before it closed, scurrying into the lobby where everyone had gathered.

He stopped beside Mitaka, the team’s first baseman, and his closest friend on the team. “Lucky bugger,” Mitaka commented once he cocked his head towards him. “None of us got voted through.”

“Not for lack of skill,” Mitt reminded. “And I’m hoping to make the trip to Chicago, if Ben won’t be busy the whole duration. Check out a few sights – and maybe I can get a ticket to the game.”

“Good luck,” Mitaka scoffed, grinning slightly. “Those tickets are expensive.”

“You don’t think I can’t pull some strings? Or the coach? Or maybe Ben or someone else.” Shrugging slightly Mitt tried to not think of the other possibility. “Which really all depends on if Ben has time off. If he doesn’t, I won’t be going.”

As it was getting a game ticket didn’t pan out but Ben’s schedule did allow for some flexibility. Their first outing was on a river cruise, listening to the cruise host describe the buildings they saw. They were mostly ignored by the other tourists, nothing appearing out of the ordinary by their presence. The first duty Ben had on the field would be later in the evening, so their subsequent get-togethers might lead to Ben getting recognised.

Except Ben was more entertained by the baseball cap that Mitt was wearing, yanking it off as soon as they met up. 

“Really?” Ben laughed, turning the brim so he could see his team’s logo up close. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve been traded?”

“Hell no.” Biting his lip to keep from completely grinning, Mitt crossed his arms in front of his chest, not angry in the slightest. “Without anyone from my team I have to cheer for the next best player so why not pick up the hat before coming?”

“Flatterer.” Chuckling through the blush that was dusting the apples of his cheeks Ben licked his lips, tried to put the hat on his own head. It turned out to be too snug to fit properly, instead sitting higher than it was intended. “How do I look?”

“Like you’re missing the rest of your uniform.” Mitt grabbed his hat back, swept his fringe back with his free hand before repositioning it, prior to Ben having stolen it. “And you know how easily I burn up, so I’m keeping the hat.”

On the occasions they got together, including a gangster tour through the city and a stop at the Art Institute and a couple of dinners out, were some of the most fun times Mitt could recall spending with Ben. Those games they played as teenagers would always be memorable but for Ben, playing the all-star events for the first time (and not for the last time, Mitt was certain), this was a new level. Chatting during every outing, reconvening after the all-star events for a night-cap before Ben needed to turn in, Mitt relished it all. The following week they’d be back to regularly scheduled phone-calls. 

The national league racked in the wins over the all-star break, derby and game, but by the beginning of September the season was winding down for some teams, and amping up for others.

Mitt eyed his phone when it rang. Instantly accepted it when he realised it was Ben.

The familiar colours of the baseball cap Ben wore had him smiling. “So I guess you’ve heard?”

“If we can’t make it into the play-offs, I’m going to cheer for the next best team,” Ben explained, pulling the brim up so his eyes were visible. “We were just short of getting one of the wild-card slots.”

“I would’ve liked to see you guys make it in, you deserve it,” Mitt commented, settling back on his bed. “And I would’ve been relieved to know we wouldn’t be playing against each other, at least at this point.”

“Flatterer.” In his own hotel room Ben was seated backwards on the hotel desk chair. “Now that my off-season has begun, I did have a few thoughts.”

“What precisely are those thoughts?” Having come back to the hotel after their division clenching game win Mitt’s body was pleasantly sore and heavy, game-play and a few beers almost convincing him to close his eyes. 

“I wouldn’t want to press you for any commitments for the next month, knowing that you might be busy for a while, but… in the new year, you want to visit me for a few weeks?” 

His eyes had grown heavy but Mitt sat up straighter, eyes widening to give Ben his full attention. 

“I don’t know if you have commitments for your Aunt over Christmas, or around the New Year,” Ben continued, smiling when he noticed how avidly Mitt watched him. “But if you have time free in January, or in the beginning of February, I’d love to have you around. My mom will be visiting for a few days so you can plan around her, unless you would like to catch up with her. She’s expressed interest in seeing you again.”

“I would’ve said yes before you got into the details,” Mitt admitted. Ben whooped from his phone, grinning and cheering. “Although you might get sick of me after having me around 24-7. You think we can survive a few weeks together?”

“I am ready to accept that challenge.”

*

Making it all the way to the national league championship series was not an accomplishment to be underplayed. The major league baseball and all of ESPN agreed that they were the best two teams in the national league and it was well-deserved for both. 

Yet it was with their tails between their legs that Mitt returned to the hotel, their team dejected after the defining loss in the sixth game of the series. The game had gone into extra-innings but in the end the home team won, guaranteeing their spot in the world series.

His Aunt (by name, not by blood) had supported him his whole life but baseball was one of the few things she wasn’t familiar with. She assured him that she watched his games when she didn’t have prior commitments but he wasn’t surprised that she didn’t phone him that night. Had she already seen or heard the news she elected to let him sulk on his own.

Mitt hesitated before picking up his phone. There were no notifications of text messages or voice mail. Fresh from the shower but still feeling foul he didn’t want to phone Ben knowing that he was in a bad mood.

It took until the next morning to phone him, making sure he wouldn’t be waking him up.

“Oh Mitt, I’m so sorry. How are you holding up?”

“We were so close. If it hadn’t been for the one home-run-”

“Hey, going out in the bottom of the fourteenth is nothing to be ashamed about. Everyone was fighting tooth and nail for it and… you just didn’t bite hard enough, no blame for you and your team. They just bit harder.”

“I’d like to bite them in the ass,” Mitt admitted, chuckling under his breath.

“You can do that next year!” The sincerity was there, but a painful reminder that that game would be at least four months away. “You didn’t make it easy for them though, and you stole a couple of homeruns from them, tagging them as they ran.”

“Go me.” He nearly sat back on the bed again, but his stomach was growling, needing food to abate the dregs of alcohol that lingered. “It doesn’t make it less awful though.”

“Will you be flying back tonight?” 

“We’ll be flying out at 2, so I imagine it’ll be evening, or close to it.”

“Are you up for going out to dinner?”

He had been walking towards the door of his room but stopped, hand on the knob. “What?”

“I’m free tonight, and I’m sure I can grab a ticket for a flight out. My treat, the best catcher of the league deserves it.”

The local press waited for the team to land and disembark from their gate. They tried to play up their success prior to the previous night, smiling and acknowledging one another, proud of their accomplishments, but the feeling of falling short was too much to ignore. 

In the background several of the players were hugging it out with their families, who had arrived at the airport to pick them up. 

Mitt finished off his own soundbite and was ready to slink off when someone yelled out for him. 

Mitt saw Ben before anyone else, smiling despite himself. Soft duffle bag dropped in the distance Ben sprinted the rest of the way, hugging him tight while the camera recorded the live feed into household’s through out the area.

Curling his arms around Ben, Mitt ignored the flashing red light, loss not quite as heavy now that he was with his best friend.


End file.
